


your mazda will tear us apart

by workthewentz



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Fluff, Food mention, M/M, patrick sings too loud in bookstores
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 17:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4188165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/workthewentz/pseuds/workthewentz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which the title very poorly describes the story, patrick meets andy at a bookstore, matt mixon scares patrick, and andy drives a fucking mazda</p>
            </blockquote>





	your mazda will tear us apart

**Author's Note:**

> sorry i brought so much of my car prejudice into this
> 
> i own the plot but not the characters, as far as i know this story is fictional, yada yada

Patrick was dancing.

It was on very rare occasions that Patrick danced. Those occasions did not include an Earth, Wind, and Fire song coming on over the loudspeakers in Barnes and Noble, but damn it, Patrick had had a horrible day and he deserved it. No one was around to see him anyway.

It wasn't a full on routine, not the kind he dreamed of doing on stage. This was a slight shuffle, tapping his foot and swaying. He hummed along a bit too loud, secretly hoping (as all singers do) that someone would come across him and compliment him on his voice.

"That's a nice routine you've got going. I'd love to see the full show," a soft voice said from the end of the stacks. Patrick looked up, to place a face to the voice. His eyes landed on a man about his height with long, curly reddish brown hair. Patrick could tell that the guy was fit, even through his Crossfit shirt, but his defining feature was the exorbitant amount of tattoos that covered his arms. Maybe Patrick could place a name to the voice too, and possibly a number, because hot damn.

"Thanks," Patrick smiled shyly. "I perform on weekends and Wednesday afternoons only, though. Have to get your tickets early."

"I'm sure you've got a sold-out crowd." The man grinned widely, showing a small gap in between his two front teeth. "I'm Andy." A piercing just below his lip glinted off of the fluorescent lights in the store and caught Patrick's eye as Andy leaned in to shake his hand.

"I'm Patrick." After a short pause, he added, "Come here often?"

Andy's short laugh echoed throughout the store. "To the bookstore, yes. To the Music History section, no. I prefer to learn what I can hands-on."

"Really?" Patrick asked. "How come I've never seen you around before?" He stopped himself from saying the cliche _I'd notice someone like you_ , thinking it was implied.

Andy pointed over his shoulder towards the back of the store, still smiling at Patrick. "I'm usually in Cultural History. I major in Anthro at the University. Lots of research for this paper I'm working on." Patrick opened his mouth to reply, but Andy's phone beeped. He pulled it out of his pocket, glancing at the screen before slipping it back. "That would be my friends wondering where I am. We're going to grab something to eat. You're welcome to tag along, if you like. I’ll get you food."

Patrick decided he might as well go with Andy, whose hair flopped around as he weaved through the stacks to the front of the store.

"So what are you?" He asked. Patrick furrowed his eyebrows, not sure what Andy meant.

"Um, I'm pretty sure I'm part Irish?"

Andy laughed at Patrick's confusion before elaborating. "I mean what do you major in?"

"Oh," Patrick grinned. "I'm not in college. I'm a senior in high school. I thought about going to the University, but I can't read music and I'm aiming for a more unconventional career."

"Like?"

"Like performing sold-out shows, for real."

Andy grinned. "Dude, that's awesome. Do you play any instruments?"

Patrick enthused for a few moments about his favorite guitar, then his favorite drum set, and watched Andy's mouth drop open when Patrick listed all of the instruments he could play. "Do you play any?"

"Drums. That's all. I've been in a billion different bands." He held the door open for Patrick to walk through. "I'm sure the guys I drum for now would love to have you. We do need a singer."

“I don’t know,” Patrick said. “I’m probably not good enough for that.”

Andy laughed incredulously. “From what I just heard, you’re good enough for anything.”

Patrick blushed furiously but followed Andy, who walked to the restaurant next door to the bookstore and again held the door open for Patrick to walk through.

“Gentleman, aren’t you,” Patrick teased.

“After you, m’lady,” Andy retorted. They both laughed and Patrick watched Andy scan the place for his friends.

“I brought a freeloader!” Andy announced to the group once they reached the table. He sat down and gestured to the empty seat next to him.

“I don’t freeload,” Patrick grinned as he sat down. “I just minimally contribute.”

“This is Patrick, guys. I found him at the bookstore, just wandering like a lost puppy, and decided to take him under my wing.” The rest of the table smiled at Patrick, _"Hey Patrick"_ s echoing in unison. One guy, the one sitting across from Andy, grinned at Patrick and stared for much longer than necessary. Patrick thought about starting a conversation with Andy, but he was busy talking to the blonde girl next to him, about something important from the looks of it.

When the guy noticed Patrick was feeling uncomfortable under his stare, he shook himself out of it. “I’m Matt,” he introduced. “Sorry, I was just-Andy usually doesn’t bring his ‘lost puppies’ to meet us.”

“You make it sound like I pick them up a lot, Mix,” Andy chimed in. Patrick looked over at him, and he was giving Matt a ‘shut the hell up’ expression, eyebrows raised and lips pursed.

“What?”

Andy just opened his menu and turned to Patrick. “I’m gonna go ahead and guess you’re not vegan.”

“Actually,” Patrick smiled. “I’m pretty used to vegan food. My mom’s super into healthy stuff, so we do a lot of plant-based food at home.” He grabbed a menu off the table and paged through it, while Andy stared at him with something like wonder on his face. After a few seconds, he looked up. "What?"

Andy shook his head. "Nothing."

The waiter came by to take their drink orders. Patrick noticed that Matt flirted with the guy as he ordered himself coffee, just like he flirted with the blond girl sitting next to Andy and sometimes even with Andy himself. Every time he did that, Patrick busied himself with looking at his menu (and Andy out of the corner of his eye) or texting his sister back about how he had met this really hot guy at the bookstore.

 

Andy had asked if Patrick wanted Andy to take him home.

“No, no, it’s fine. I can walk from here.”

“Patrick,” Andy said, sounding unsettlingly like someone’s mother. “It’s ninety degrees out here. I can’t let you walk home in this heat.”

“Really, Andy.” Patrick threw his backpack over one shoulder, wincing when his new books hit his back a bit too hard.

“Look, your bag’s heavy. Here.” Andy took Patrick’s bag from him and tossed it into the open backseat of his car. Patrick sighed, but walked around to the front seat and slid into the car. After shutting the backdoor, Andy got into the other side of the car, shooting Patrick a satisfied grin.

“This is a Mazda,” Patrick said in awe as he glanced at the symbol on the steering wheel.

“Yeah.” Andy looked at Patrick, confused, as Patrick wrinkled his nose.

“Why do you have a Mazda?” Patrick sounded disgusted.

“I don’t know,” Andy said defensively. “It’s affordable, manageable. What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” Patrick grumbled. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, broken only by Patrick’s directions home, he said, “I can’t believe I let you drive me home in a fucking Mazda.”

“Knock it off, Patrick!”

“Absolutely not! (Second house on the right.)” Pause. “What kind of self-respecting man owns a Mazda?” By this time Andy had pulled up at Patrick’s house, and Patrick was climbing out of the front seat. “Thanks for the ride, Mister Vegan, even if it was in a really sucky car.”

Andy walked Patrick to his front door. “I was hoping you’d let me take you out? It’ll have to be in my really sucky car, though,” Andy grinned. His smile was infectious, and Patrick beamed back at him.

“I’d like that.” He leaned in, slowly, and pressed a kiss to Andy’s cheek. Andy froze, smile still plastered on his face, and Patrick dug his keys out of his backpack, along with a marker, which he used to scrawl his number across Andy’s palm. “Call me,” Patrick winked as he disappeared into his house.

Andy shook his head and laughed in disbelief as he walked back to his car. “Fucking Mazda.”

 

 


End file.
